'Sod all,' Rose said to
herself. 'Next sense: touch. What can I feel?'

She reached forward,
tentatively exploring with her right hand and hoping that whatever it connected
with would not want to bite it off. Then the floor beneath her rocked and she
stumbled forward.

'We're moving,' Rose said.
Now that she concentrated, she could feel it, not just the sudden lurch, but
also a gentle rocking motion. 'Do you think we're out at sea?' Rose had
collapsed against some kind of barrier and she started to examine it. 'There's
some kind of wooden wall here, Doctor. Ouch!'

'Rose! Are you all right?'

'Yeah. Just a splinter.' She stuck her fingertip in
her mouth and sucked at the tiny wound. 'Might as well add taste. This place
tastes disgusting. Doctor? I can see a light. The slats of this wall thing
don't fit properly.'

'Brave heart, Rose. You've
already proved that you don't need eyes to 'see'. What else can you tell me?'

'Fine. Smell. It's kind of
musty in here. Sweaty. Like they don't get much fresh air in here. A bit like
Mickey's bedroom, I guess.'

The Doctor laughed at that.

'Doesn't smell like we're at
see, though,' Rose continued, 'so I guess we're not on a boat after all.'

'We could be on fresh
water,' the Doctor replied, 'or maybe this planet's oceans smell different to
the way you're used to.'

'I thought we were back in
the nineteenth century. Why else am I wearing all this?'

'We're supposed to be
in the nineteenth century, but, well, I am wrong very occasionally.'

Rose rolled her eyes.

'Now,' the Doctor said,
'tell me more.'

'I'm out of senses,' Rose
pointed out.

'What,
already?' the Doctor stuck his head out of the TARDIS door, his face
illuminated by a lantern. 'Yes, I suppose you would be. Nice place you've
found.'

The
yellow light spat out by the guttering lantern flame illuminated the wooden box
in which the Doctor and Rose found themselves.

'Boxes
within boxes,' the Doctor remarked as he explored. He was not just referring to
the TARDIS. A number of other boxes and packing crates were packed into the
wooden carriage and Rose stooped to examine a handwritten label. 'Where do you
reckon this train's heading then?'

'New
York,' Rose supplied.

'Guess?'

'Says
so on here.' She held up the label.

The
Doctor grinned. 'That's my girl. Now let's get back in the TARDIS before some
overzealous inspector realises we're travelling without a ticket.'

Rose
shrugged.

'Used to do it all the time
back home.' She moved on to another crate. 'Now what have we here?'

She jumped back as something
within the crate moaned.

'Doctor, I think there's
something in this one.'

'Well of course there's
something in it,' the Doctor said, striding over, 'or what would be the point
of...' There was another moan and the Doctor's eyes widened. 'That's human.'

Rose was trying to force her
way into the crate. 'It's locked.'

'Here.' The Doctor handed
Rose the lantern and produced the sonic screwdriver. There was a brief buzzing
sound accompanied by a burst of blue light and then the lock fell open.
'Nothing to it.'

A figure burst out of the
crate, knocking the Doctor flying. He barrelled into Rose who dropped the
lantern. It cracked and burning oil spilled out onto the floor of the carriage.

'Got to get out. Got to get
out.' The man from the box was clawing at the walls. He was black and filthy
and dressed in nothing but rags. He looked over his shoulder at Rose. His eyes
were wild, like a hunted animal. 'Can't breathe.'

'We just want to help you,'
the Doctor said, stamping on the flames to put them out.

Rose reeled and struck her
head on the edge of the TARDIS. She crumpled to the floor.

'Rose.' The Doctor was at
her side in an instant. He glared at her attacker. 'If you've hurt her...'

'What's going on in here
then?' The door at one end of the carriage swung open revealing a burly fellow
silhouetted against the setting sun. He looked down at the Doctor. 'What do you
think you're doing in here, son. And more to the point, what are you doing with
what looks to be a runaway slave?'

'What
hit you?' The Doctor folded his arms. 'You hit my TARDIS!' He
gestured to the men removing the time machine from the train. 'Careful with
that,' he called. 'She's had a nasty knock.'

'Ha
ha, very funny,' Rose said. 'This hurts.'

The
Doctor brushed away his companions blonde hair with his thumbs and examined the
wound. 'You'll live. Trust me, I'm a doctor.'

'A
doctor, are you now?' A reed-thin man in a wide-brimmed hat was swaggering
towards them. 'English too, I reckon.'

'Might
be.'

'Thought
we got rid of the lot of you ages back.' The man spat at the dirt. 'Mind
telling me what you folks were doing in the baggage coach of this here train?' He
cocked his head in the direction of the engine cooling in the station.

'Yes,
I would,' the Doctor replied. 'Who are you anyway?'

'Sheriff
Hicks,' the man replied, tapping the brim of his hat. 'I'm what passes for the
law around these parts.'

'Are
you now? Is that why you've got that poor soul clapped in irons. Bad enough he
was crammed into someone's suitcase. I've heard of travelling economy, but
that's just ridiculous.'

'Joe
there's an escaped slave,' Sheriff Hicks explained. 'He's the rightful property
of one William C. Ebbitt and I intend to see that he's returned to him in one
piece.'

'I've
heard that where you come from you're more soft-hearted towards the Negro,'
Sheriff Hicks said, 'but you're not in England anymore, miss, and we do things
differently round here.'

'What
about him?' the Doctor asked, spotting another figure being led off of the
train. 'Why's he being arrested?'

'You
didn't think our friend Joe got all this way on his lonesome, did you? His kind
ain't smart enough for that. No, Joe had help and that man there's going to pay
for it. Swing for it to if I had my way.' He touched his hat again. 'If you'll
excuse me.'

When
she was sure that the sheriff was out of earshot, Rose turned pleadingly to the
Doctor.

'We've
got to help him,' she said.

The Doctor raised an
eyebrow. 'Why's that then?'

'That man's being forced to
work as a slave. You can't pretend that's right.'

'Right or wrong, it's
history,' the Doctor replied. 'Lexington, Kentucky. 1851. This is how they were
treated and being all morally superior isn't going to change that. For all you
know, he's owned by one of your ancestors.'

'But we already have,' Rose
said. 'Changed history I mean. He would have been well on his way to freedom if
we hadn't turned up. I know we can't do anything about slavery, much as I want
to. I'm not stupid. But surely we can help this one guy if it's our fault he's
in trouble in the first place.'

'We can't interfere,' the
Doctor insisted.

'Can't or won't?' Rose
asked.

* * *

'Hello, what's your name?'

John
Fairfield looked up from the stool he was sitting on. A man with big ears and a
black coat was examining the lock on the cell door. A blonde girl stood next to
him. Every so often she would glance over her shoulder, nervously, as if
expecting the sheriff to return at any moment.

'Who
are you and what the devil do you think you're doing?' Fairfield demanded.

'I'm
the Doctor and this is my friend Rose,' the Doctor replied without looking up.
'Pleased to meet you. As for what I'm doing, well Rose here has somehow managed
to persuade me - against my better judgement I might add - to get into the
business of freeing slaves and, since your the closest thing we know to an
expect around here, we decided to break you out of jail.'

The
cell door swung open.

'So,'
the Doctor continued, 'are you going to tell me your name or what?'

* * *

'How much longer are we going to wait?' Rose asked.

'You're
the one who wanted to come here.' The Doctor leaned forward and patted the
flank of the horse in from of him. It whinnied contentedly.

'And
I can't believe you were just going to leave him be.'

'What
do you want me to do?' The Doctor turned to face Rose. 'With what's in the
TARDIS you and I could abolish slavery here and now no problem. But why stop
there? We could go back to when it all started and nip it in the bud. And while
we're at it, what about all the other stuff we could fix. Let's save Kennedy
and Lennon. Let's stop Hitler and Stalin coming to power. That would really
make a difference, wouldn't it?' The Doctor's eyes were burning and he lowered
his voice until it was almost a whisper. 'And what about those differences,
Rose? What happens to the world you grew up in? What happens to your mum and
your idiot boyfriend? Maybe you don't grow up at all. Maybe you're never even
born. And if you're never born, how do you change history in the first place?'

Rose
looked away. The Doctor's outburst had stung and she was ashamed of the tears
in her eyes.

'I
know all that,' she insisted, 'but we're only talking about one man, one life.
Surely it can't make all that much of a difference.'

'Leonardo,
Einstein, Martin Luther King. One man. One life. All the difference in the
world.'

'Would
we?' the Doctor asked. 'History is littered with people who might have been,
but for circumstance. Perhaps he's one of those. And even if he isn't, that
doesn't mean he won't make a difference. Even his small actions will create
ripples. People will act differently for having met him, think differently for
having heard his words and these tiny differences will mount up over the years
as the history you and I know slowly diverges from the history that is. And a
hundred-odd years from now, your mum and your dad singularly fail to meet at
the right place and the right time and a certain Rose Tyler is erased from the
history books.'

'Butterfly
flaps its wings in London, you get a hurricane in the Pacific,' Rose said.
'Step on the butterfly, no hurricane. Guess it works with time too. I dunno. I
still don't think that should stop us from trying to do the right thing.'

'Not
saying it should,' the Doctor replied. 'I just want you to go into this with
your eyes open, that's all.'

A
gunshot rang out and panicked birds took to their air amid a cacophony of
squawking.

'That'll
be your new friend,' the Doctor said.

Sure
enough, as Rose peered out over the cotton fields, she could see a number of
figures running their way, spurred on by John Fairfield. Actually, she
realised, running was an exaggeration; with chains binding their hands and
feet, the best the slaves could manage was a brisk hobble. And their pursuers
fully intended to capitalise on their advantage.

Another
shot rang out and one of the slaves dropped. Fairfield, bringing up the rear,
swept him up and threw him over his shoulders, barely pausing in his flight.

'Doctor,'
Rose said, 'they're not going to make it.'

'Oh
yes they are.' Tightening his grip on the reins, the Doctor spurred on the
horse and the cart both he and Rose were sitting on rattled off across the field,
cutting a swath through the cotton crop. He pulled up along side the fleeing
slaves.

'Everybody
in,' he yelled, somewhat redundantly as the slaves were already clambering
aboard.

Fairfield was the last to
arrive and he threw his charge into the back of the cart. Rose recognised him
as the man from the train. His shoulder was slick with blood.

'See to him,' Fairfield
grunted at her before climbing up beside the Doctor.

'I thought we were only here
for one man,' the Doctor remarked pointedly as he drove the horses
onwards.

'I saw a chance to get all
of them out,' Fairfield replied, 'so I took it.'

Rose was using the slave's
shirt to bind the wound in his shoulder. It was a difficult task because he
kept twisting and turning, muttering words Rose could not quite catch.

His eyes met hers. 'Mary?
That you, Mary?'

Rose shook her head. 'No. My
name's Rose.' He slumped back dejectedly and Rose found herself saying, 'I'm
sorry,' even though she did not know what she was apologising for.

Another shot snapped Rose
out of her reverie and she ducked down in the cart. Peering over the edge she
could make out their pursuers, four of them, with shotguns levelled.

'So that's how you want to
play it,' Fairfield muttered. He produced a revolver and started to aim.

'No!' The Doctor knocked
Fairfield's arm, spoiling his aim, and the shot passed harmlessly over the
heads of the pursuers. 'We've got what we came for.'

'Do you really think they
won't come after us?' Fairfield demanded. 'Are you that stupid. I could have
solved all our problems. Permanently.'

The Doctor ignored him,
concentrating on the horses.

'We'll be safe just has soon
as we cross the Ohio River,' he said.

Fairfield shook his head.
'Have you got a lot to learn.'

* * *

After a few hours hard driving, they made camp.
Fairfield wanted to press on to the river, but the Doctor insisted that the
horses were exhausted.

'What
good's it going to do us if one of them drops dead halfway there?' he argued.

'What
good's it going to do us if we wait here for them to catch up with us,'
Fairfield snapped back.

'We
don't know that they're chasing us.'

'Do
you know how much just one slave's worth? We've got half-a-dozen of them here.'

'We'll
reach the river tomorrow,' the Doctor said calmly. 'We'll be safe on the other
side.'

Fairfield
muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse and stalked off.

'What's
so special about the river?' Rose asked as she scrambled out of the cart.

'Slavery's
legal in the southern states,' the Doctor explained, 'but not in the north. The
Ohio River's a state boundary. All we have to do is cross it.'

Rose
lowered her voice so that they wouldn't be overheard. 'Why can't we just take
them back to the TARDIS?'

'You
mean the TARDIS that's still in the possession of our friend Sheriff Hicks? I'd
like to see you explain to him how we acquired five slaves, not to mention Mr
Fairfield.'

'Point.'

'Mister
Fairfield, sir!' The slave with the wounded shoulder was calling after their
new companion.

'I'm
sorry.' The slave hung his head. 'I only wanted to thank you for coming back
for me.'

Fairfield
grabbed his injured shoulder and the slave cried out in pain.

'I
shouldn't have been able to. Don't you remember what I told you? Don't let them
take you alive. Better dead than a slave. Next time I'll leave you to rot.'

'He
didn't mean that,' Rose consoled the slave after Fairfield had hunched down by
the campfire.

'Yes
he did. And he's not wrong. But I couldn't die, miss. Not when there's a chance
I could see Mary again.'

'Mary?'

The
slave grinned, revealing crooked teeth. 'My wife.'

'You
thought I was her. In the cart.'

'You're
as pretty.'

Rose
blushed and looked down at her feet.

'My
name's Rose,' she said, recovering her composure.'

'Abraham.'

Rose
frowned. 'The sheriff said your name was Joe.'

'That's
what they called me back at the farm,' Abraham explained. 'They never bothered
to ask what my name really was.'

* * *

Once the horses were rested, the group continued
riding by moonlight. Fairfield thought it was safer than travelling during the
day. The slaves, exhausted, slept in the cart, pressed tightly against one
another in the confined space.

'No
worse than the boats, miss,' Abraham told Rose.

'So
what makes a man like you risk his neck for people like them,' the Doctor asked
Fairfield while tugging gently on the reins to guide the horses. 'You look like
you'd be more at home keeping slaves, not freeing them.'

Fairfield
looked up at the stars. 'You're not far wrong, Doc. My folks, they kept slaves.
Beat 'em to within an inch of their lives too, not because they weren't working
hard, 'cos they were doing plenty. Just because they could. That's the done
thing with slaves, you see. If you don't beat 'em regular they might forget
their place. I never could raise my hand to no black man, though. To white
folks with their hands on whips, well, that's a different story. Freed my first
slave from my uncle's plantation. Been helping 'em move north ever since.'

'Look,
over there!'

Rose sat up suddenly and
pointed over the Doctor's shoulder. In the distance, barely visible in the
gloom, was a trail of molten silver.

'Is that..?'

'Yes, Rose,' the Doctor
confirmed, 'that's the Ohio River.'

* * *

Fairfield was prepared.

'Been
doing this a long time,' he explained as they dragged the boats from their
concealment and out onto the water, 'and I've used this route before.'

'We're
not there yet,' Fairfield warned him. 'I've seen more than one of your kind
fall at the last hurdle because he got cocky. I won't breath easy till we're on
dry land again. Probably not even then.'

The
Doctor took one boat with Rose, Abraham and one more slaves. Fairfield, with
the remaining three, occupied the other. With quiet, deliberate strokes of the
oars, the Doctor and Fairfield guided the boats gently through the water. As
they moved further into the river, the current picked up, threatening to drive
them back towards the near shore. Without being asked, Abraham took up a spare
oar and together he and the Doctor forced their boat onwards.

There
was a cry from the other boat.

'What's
wrong?' the Doctor called out.

Fairfield
swore. 'We're taking on water.'

The
Doctor and Abraham looked at each other and then began steering their boat in
the direction of Fairfield's stricken vessel.

'Over
there!' Rose had been watching the Kentucky shore since they had entered the
water, nervous about pursuit, and now she drew their attention to the light of
lanterns approaching the river.

'Make
for the bank,' Fairfield ordered the Doctor.

'But
what about you?'

'Forget
about me,' Fairfield snapped. 'Save those you can.'

The
Doctor nodded and returned his attention to getting his own boat across the
river before their pursuers caught up with them.

'But
what about the others,' Rose protested.

The
Doctor did not reply.

Rose's
attention was torn from her companion by a splash. Fairfield had dived into the
water. By moonlight, Rose could see him wrapping his arms around the small boat
and holding it up as he walked along the river bed, his face contorted in
strain.

There
was a thump as Rose's own boat struck the bank.

'Everybody
out!' The Doctor jumped up onto the rear covered shoreline and began hauling
his passengers from the boat. Once everyone was ashore, he started to clamber
back in.

Abraham
reached out a hand to stay him. 'What are you doing?'

'I'm
going back for him.' The Doctor jerked a thumb in the direction of Fairfield
and the others.

Abraham
shook his head. 'There is no time. Either he makes it on his own or they will
catch him long before you get to him.'

Silhouetted
in the gloom, their pursuers were taking to the water.

Rose
screwed her hands up into fists as she watched Fairfield's agonisingly slow
progress. The shouts of pursuit were carried to her by the wind, getting closer
and louder all the time.

'They're
going to catch him, aren't they?' she whispered.

The
Doctor, standing behind her, put a hand on her shoulder. 'If they do then we'll
just have to rescue him again.'

'If
they catch him, they'll shoot him and dump his body in the river,' Abraham said
sombrely. 'There'll be no mercy for men who steal slaves.'

Seconds
became minutes. Minutes slunk by like hours. Then, remarkably, wonderfully,
Fairfield's boat struck the shore. The Doctor was already knee-deep in the
water, hauling people onto dry land.

'Aren't
you coming?' he asked Fairfield who was still pinned beneath the boat.

'I'm
stuck,' Fairfield told him. 'This mud, it's like quicksand.'

'Give
me your hand.' The Doctor eased himself closer, taking hold of a tree root with
one hand while reaching out to Fairfield with the other, which Fairfield
grasped eagerly.

The
Doctor grunted with exertion.

'I can't get enough
purchase,' he complained.

'They're getting closer,'
Rose warned as she grabbed hold of the Doctor and leant her strength to his.

'Stop struggling,' the
Doctor replied. 'That should buy us a bit of time.'

'Time's something we don't
have, Doc. Leave me. Save yourself.'

'Never,' the Doctor declared
through gritted teeth.

Then a thick black arm,
rippling with coiled muscles, snaked between Rose and the Doctor. Abraham
grabbed hold of Fairfield's shirt collar and yanked for all he was worth. There
was a tremendous sucking sound and then a pop as Fairfield sprung free and flew
on to the bank.

'Thank you.' Between gasps
for air, Fairfield clapped Abraham on the arm.

'I owe you,' Abraham said
simply.

'After that, consider all
debts cancelled,' Fairfield replied.

'If everyone's finished
congratulating each other,' the Doctor interrupted. 'There's still the small
matter of pursuit.'

'But we’re north of the
river,' Rose pointed out. 'You said we'd be safe!'

A shot rang out.

'I might have been wrong
about that. Run!'

* * *

They had taken refuge in a church on the edge of
town, the Doctor throwing open the doors and yelling 'Sanctuary!' for all he
was worth. The priest, once he had recovered from the shock of their arrival,
turned out to be sympathetic to the slaves' plight and had found some food for
them to eat while they rested their tired and blistered feet.

'We
can't stay here,' Rose said.

'The
priest did promise us sanctuary.' The Doctor as leaning against a pillar, arms
folded.

'I
can't see him standing between us and a group of irate farmers with guns,'
Fairfield said. 'At least, not for long. I know someone in Cincinnati...'

'Well,
let's go there then,' Rose suggested.

'If
only it was that simple. Look at them.' Fairfield gestured to the slaves in
their rags and chains. 'There's no way we'll get them across town without folks
knowing exactly what they are. And this close to the river, we can't count on
everyone being as friendly as this priest.'

'Anyone
want to hear my idea?' the Doctor offered.

* * *

Sometime later, the sun obscured by clouds heavy
with the promise of rain, a funeral procession of dark coaches slowly made its
way through the town, silent, save for the soft sobbing of a few of the
mourners. Out of respect, the townsfolk glanced briefly and then averted their
eyes. Had they shown more interest, they might have noticed that the lead
mourner, clad in a battered leather jacket, had a huge grin incongruously
plastered across his face...

* * *

'What's that noise?'

Catherine Coffin was peeling
potatoes when the peace of domesticity was broken by a hammering noise.

'Sounds like someone's at
the door.' Catherine's husband, Levi, ran a hand through his thinning hair.
'We're not expecting any... visitors, are we?'

'Nobody's sent word,'
Catherine continued.

The hammering was becoming
more insistent. Shrugging his shoulders, Levi Coffin went to answer it.

'Hello, I'm the Doctor,' the
man on the other side of the door informed him. He indicated his companions.
'We were looking for the cemetery, but we got a bit lost. Can we come in?'

* * *

'I'm sorry if I was a little abrupt earlier,' Coffin
said to the Doctor. 'John usually sends word if he's bringing passengers.'

'Passengers?'
The Doctor lazily swirled his drink around in his glass.

'That's
just our way of describing what our little railroad. The slaves are our
passengers, escorted by conductors, like Fairfield here, and along they way
they stop at stations, such as this one, for rest, food and supplies.'

Catherine
Coffin had a new dress for Rose to wear. In fact, she had boxes of clothes and
was fresh garments for all the escaped slaves as well.

'A
number of women in town make the clothes,' Catherine explained. 'Then they pass
them on to us.'

'And
you do all this for these people even though they're escaped slaves?' Rose
asked.

'Well,
of course. The Bible bids us feed the hungry and clothe the naked. It says
nothing about the colour of their skin. Here, let me help you with that.'

Catherine
tightened the laces of Rose's dress and together they descended the stairs to
where the men were waiting.

'Aren't
you worried about the sort of people you're letting stay here?' Rose asked.
'They could be anybody.'

'When
the Good Samaritan saw that man at the roadside, do you think he stopped to ask
those same questions before going to help? My husband and I just try to follow
the teachings in the good book and would that more people could do likewise.'

Downstairs,
the Doctor drained his glass.

'Well,
now that we've got Abraham and his friends to safety,' he said, 'I think it's
time Rose and I were off. Thanks for the drink.'

'Safety?'
Coffin chuckled softly. 'You obviously haven't heard.'

'Heard
what?'

'A
couple of years ago then perhaps moving to a Free State might have been enough,
but just last year Congress passed the Fugitive Slave Act.'

'And
that means what exactly?'

'It
means, to put it simply, that those poor people enjoying Catherine's cooking
over there, aren't safe anywhere in America. Federal commissioners, who, I
might add, receive a bonus for every slave they recapture, have the authority
to pursue runaways throughout the Union. Worse still, citizens are obliged to
assist in the pursuit of escapees or face imprisonment.'

'And
yet in spite of that, you still do all this?' the Doctor asked.

Coffin
offered up a weary smile. 'Sometimes there is a mighty chasm between what is
law and what is just. And I fear that until that chasm is closed, these people
won't be safe until they reach Canada.'

'Canada?'
The Doctor's eyes widened. 'But that's hundreds of miles from here.'

'Knew
I should have shot him when I had the chance,' Fairfield said.

'Now,
John,' Coffin said, 'we've had this conversation before. Thou shalt not kill.
That should be all that needs to be said on the subject.'

'Way
I see it, those kind of standards are okay for most folks,' Fairfield replied,
'but then there are those who forfeit their rights to any kind of
consideration.'

'We're
all God's children, John.' Coffin turned back to the Doctor. 'I asked a
colleague to pick up the passengers tonight. He can get them as far as the
station in New York. Our people there can get them into Canada.'

The
Doctor looked at Abraham who was shovelling stew into his mouth as if it was
the finest ambrosia.

'I
think Rose and I can stay at least until he shows up,' the Doctor said,
'assuming you don't mind, that is.'

'Your
company is my pleasure,' Coffin assured him.

* * *

Rose was dozing in an armchair when she was woken by
the Doctor shaking her.

'What?'
she asked, bleary eyed.

'Trouble.'

Rose
could hear raised voices and, as wakefulness returned, she was able to trace
them to the front door. Fairfield was arguing with a stranger in the doorway
while Coffin tried to mediate between them. Looking beyond them, Rose could see
that night had fallen.

'What
are they arguing about?'

'Abraham's
gone and done a bunk,' the Doctor explained.

'What?'

'Yeah,
that was my reaction too,' the Doctor agreed. 'The guy in the hat is here to
pick up the runaways. He's making a delivery in New York and is going to hide
them in the back of his wagon. Things is, he doesn't want to wait in case
people start getting suspicious.'

'So
what do we do?' Rose was wide-awake now.

'That,
Rose, is what they're arguing about.'

Closing
the door, Coffin turned slowly to face them. He massaged the bridge of his nose
with his fingers.

'He
won't wait,' he said tiredly, 'and I can't say I blame him.'

'Coward,'
Fairfield spat.

'Nobody
wants to lose their freedom,' Coffin scolded him gently. 'At least he's taken
the four still here with him.'

They caught up with Abraham after half an hours
riding. He was stumbling along the road, weaving drunkenly from side to side.
He collapsed as Rose jumped down from Coffin's coach.

'The
idiot!' The Doctor squatted down to examine him. 'He's opened up his wound.'

'What
did you think you were doing,' Rose asked, trying not to look at the blood.

'I
was looking for Mary.' Abraham slurred his words. 'I promised her if I ever got
free then I'd come after her.'

'Who's
Mary?' Coffin asked.

'His
wife,' Rose explained.

'Figures.'
Fairfield turned to Coffin. 'Doesn't your 'good book' have something to say
about women being the root of all evil?'

Coffin
ignored the jibe.

'I
understand why you'd want to be with your wife,' he said to Abraham, 'but where
were you even going to start looking.'

'Louisville,'
Abraham replied. 'Mister Ebbitt said he was selling her on.'

'Makes
sense.' The others turned to look at Fairfield so he explained, 'Louisville's
on the river. Good place for an auction because of the shipping route.'

'Once
she's sold she could go any place.' Abraham was growing agitated. 'I have to go
to her now.'

He tried to sit up, but the
Doctor pushed him back down.

'You're not rescuing
anybody,' he said. 'Not in your condition.'

'But Mary...'

'Hate to admit it,'
Fairfield said, picking his teeth, 'but I kinda feel for the guy.'

'There must be something we
can do, Doctor?' Rose pressed.

'You'll be bringing home
strays next,' the Doctor muttered. 'Fine, here's what we're going to do. You,
Abraham and John here will head on up to Canada.'

'And how are we supposed to
do that?' Fairfield asked.

'Do I have to think of
everything?' The Doctor glanced about for inspiration then snapped his fingers.
'You'll take the steamer. The pair of you are travelling together with your
slave. Sorry about that, Abraham.'

'I guess that makes us
husband and wife,' Fairfield said to Rose.

'You wish,' she replied.
'More like father and daughter.'

'Uncle and niece,' the
Doctor said, 'and that's final.'

'But what about Mary?' Abraham
persisted.

'I'll get her,' the Doctor
promised, 'and then we'll both meet you on Canada.' He looked to Coffin. 'I'll
need transport. Can I borrow your coach?'

'That I'm gallivanting off
to kidnap a slave. Best not,' Coffin admitted. 'She'd only talk me out of it.'

* * *

The auction was already under way when the Doctor
and Levi Coffin arrived in Louisville. It was taking place in a barn and was
conducted by a short, hairy man whose stomach hung over his belt. He was,
however, a natural salesman, who had the prospective buyers, standing in a
group on one side of the barn, eating out of his hand.

'How
much money have we got?' The Doctor was hastily emptying his pockets into
Coffin's hands as they entered.

'I
pray to God, enough,' Coffin replied.

Mary
was the sixth slave to be auctioned off. She had to be forced onto the
auctioneer's platform by his burly assistants. She was tiny, short and
undernourished, enveloped by her faded blue dress. Her hair had been cut very
short. Coffin knew that slaves were often shaved for transport to stop the
spread of disease. One could not make a profit on an infected slave.

'Who'll
start the bidding for this beauty?' the auctioneer asked.

Coffin
made to raise his hand, but the Doctor held him back.

'Let's
see who else is interested first,' he suggested.

Bidding
started slowly and was limited to a bespectacled young man proudly displaying a
Colt revolver on his hip and a man in a long coat all of whose hair had
migrated from his crown to his chin.

The
auctioneer allowed the two to compete against each other for a few more
minutes, then his eyes sparkled.

Coffin
looked away, ashamed of the girl's nakedness. Keeping his eyes averted from the
stage, he watched the bidders. There was a flurry of activity now and the
Doctor entered the competition, cautiously showing and interest. The asking
price rose rapidly and, reluctantly, several of the bidders fell by the
wayside, including the man with the gun.

'Surely
a prize piece like this is worth than that, sirs,' the auctioneer insisted.
'Why, it's an insult to the lady.'

The
Doctor and the bearded man were the only people still bidding. Coffin's heart
was in his mouth. He knitted his hands together in pray and closed his eyes.

'And
sold to you, sir!'

Coffin's
eyes snapped open and then widened in horror as the bearded man stepped forward
to claim his new property.

'What
happened?' Coffin demanded.

The
Doctor gestured to the money. 'It wasn't enough after all.'

* * *

Rose stood on the deck of the paddle steamer
watching the scenery pass by. It was not passing by anything like quickly
enough. She had spent the first day in her cabin, just wanting this all to be
over with, but the claustrophobia of being confined to just one room had become
overwhelming. It was not that she did not still think what they were doing was
important - this had all been her idea in the first place - but at the moment
she was not doing anything. All she could do was wait until the paddle steamer
reached its final destination while the Doctor took all the risks. Rose was not
very good at waiting.

Fairfield
had found it easier. He was inside, sharing bawdy jokes and playing cards. Rose
had taken one look at the saloon and decided it was not for her, with the smoke
and the noise and the spitting and whatever. Mind you, give her another few
days of boredom and she would probably be cursing and spitting with the best of
them.

Abraham
was below decks, chained with everyone else's slaves. Rose had paid him a visit
at the start of the voyage. She had not been able to go back since. They were
tied up like cattle, left in squalor and filth and fed thin gruel as if they
were barely human. She supposed that to many of the people here, that were
barely human.

But
that was not the worst of it. The worst of it had been Abraham's reaction to
her shock and horror.

'It's
not so bad, miss,' he had said, 'not compared to what I'm used to.'

'You
can't mean that.'

'They
brought us here by boat,' Abraham explained. 'Hundreds of us, all forced to lie
inside with only this much space each.' He held his hands about a foot apart.
'We couldn't move, not because we were chained or because of the guards, but
because there wasn't any room. Once a day they got us up on deck and made us
dance and eat and then they sent us back down into our pit. They'd hose us down
where we lay, washing off all the filth that had nowhere else to go. And we
stayed that way for a month or more before they took us off the boat and sold
us.'

'That's
horrible,' Rose said.

'Not
all of us made it here alive, miss,' Abraham continued. 'I would wake up after
a couple of hours sleep and the man next to me would be staring at me, never
blinking. They took his body and they threw him into the sea for the fish to
feed on. They threw a lot of bodies into the sea.

'I
used to think they were the lucky ones.'

Abraham's
chains were rattling and Rose noticed that his hands were shaking. She put her
own hands on them to steady them.

'I'm
sorry.'

'Don't
be, miss,' Abraham had said. 'You and Mister Fairfield, you've given me back my
hope. In a few more days I won't be a slave no more. I'll be free.'

* * *

'What can we do now?' Coffin asked. His hands were
shaking so he stuffed them into his pockets.

The
pair entered the tavern and the Doctor sauntered over to the table where the
bearded man who had purchased Mary was playing cards.

'Hello.
Remember me?'

The
man looked up. 'My opponent at the auction. You missed out on a good buy there
my friend.'

'Yeah,
well, no hard feeling's right.' The Doctor sat down and extended a hand across
the table. 'I'm the Doctor by the way.'

'Harry
Mandeville.' The bearded man gave the Doctor's hand a warm shake.

'Pleased
to meet you, Harry.' The Doctor waved Coffin over. 'Thing is, Harry, I was kind
of hoping you could do me a favour.'

'That
would rather depend on the favour.' Mandeville laughed and, after a moment, his
companions did likewise.

'It's
like this,' the Doctor explained. 'I've just discovered my friend here has
never experienced the joys of poker and I couldn't help but noticing...'

He
waved vaguely at the game in progress.

'You'd
like to join us?' Mandeville asked. 'Well if you can raise the stake money...'

'Funny
you should mention that,' the Doctor replied, 'but I've got all this cash I
didn't get to spend on a slave.' He turned to Coffin. 'Deep breaths, Levi. Just
remember, it's all in a good cause.'

'I
just hope you know what you're doing,' Coffin whispered back.

* * *

A shadow passed across Rose and she looked up from
the steamer's railing, roused from her memories. A tall man wearing a black
waistcoat over a claret shirt was standing next to her. He had a narrow goatee,
wore a patch over his left eye and was absently chewing on an unlit cigar.

'Drags
after a while, doesn't it,' he drawled.

'I'm
sorry?'

'The
cruise,' he replied. 'There's not much to do here if you don't gamble or
drink.'

'Not
your thing either?' Rose asked.

'Alcohol
clouds a man's judgement. He might miss out on a golden opportunity that way.'
The man turned so that his back was to the railing and leaned against it. 'As for
the gambling, I'm not against it, but I like to play for higher stakes than the
folks in there can afford. Name's Wilson.'

'Rose.'

'Pretty
name. You travelling alone.'

'No.
I'm with... my uncle.'

Wilson
nodded thoughtfully. 'Yes, I think I've seen him around. And your slave, of
course.'

Rose's
eyes narrowed. 'What about him?'

'Nothing.
Nothing at all. He's a fine specimen, is all. Fact is he reminds me of one a
friend of mine keeps down in Lexington. Him and yours are like two peas ion a
pod. Could even be related.'

'Anything's
possible,' Rose replied cautiously.

Wilson
grinned. 'I like that. Now that's an attitude I can respect. Tell you what,
Rose, I've really taken a shine to that slave of yours. I can do you a good
deal if you'd agree to sell him to me.'

'He's
not for sale.'

'Everything's
for sale, Rose.' Wilson scratched his beard. 'You just have to name the right
price. Perhaps if I spoke to your uncle...'

'Abraham's
not for sale.'

'Abraham,
is it?'

There
was a scream from below deck. Wilson tipped his hat to Rose and than ran in the
direction of the steps down. Hitching up her skirts, Rose followed.

A
severe-looking woman was cowering in a corner of the hold, being attended by a
steward.

'That...
that creature attacked me,' she was saying, a lace handkerchief held to her
mouth.

She
was pointing at Abraham.

Rose
hurried towards him, but Wilson put out an arm to stay her.

'He's
dangerous,' he warned.

Rose
angrily pushed past him.

'What
happened,' she whispered to Abraham.

'It
was one of the other slaves. His master calls him George. The journey makes him
so ill that he can't keep down his food and when his mistress saw the mess he
had made she started to beat him.'

The thought of Abraham's
accuser raising her hand against one of these big black men might have been
comical if Rose had not been able to see George cowering against the ship's
hull, livid red welts on his back.

'I know I should have left
alone, but I couldn't. I tried to stop her.'

Wilson had joined them.

'Thing about slaves is
they've still got the wild inside of them.' He was holding a long whip in his
hands. 'They have to be tamed and pains a remarkable teacher. Your Abraham
needs a lesson.'

Staring at the whip, Rose
could not bring herself to speak.

'If you don't have the stomach
for it,' Wilson said, 'and no shame in that, I'll happily do it for you.'

Abraham looked imploringly
at Rose.

'I'll do it,' she managed to
say.

The whip was heavy in her
hands. The grip was coarse and still warm from where Wilson had been holding
it.

Abraham turned his back to
her.

Rose raised the lash.

She brought it down with a
sharp crack. Blood welled up from the wound she had made, rivulets trickling
slowly down Abraham's broad back.

Abraham did not cry out.
Instead he whispered, so that only Rose could hear, 'Again.'

Rose looked to Wilson, but
his face was unreadable. The severe-looking woman, supported by the steward,
was hobbling over for a closer look. There was hunger in her eyes.

'Well,' she demanded. 'What
are you waiting for? Hit him again.'

Rose brought the whip down
again and this time Abraham did scream in pain.

'Again,' he encouraged her,
his words drowned out by a similar encouragement from the bloodthirsty woman.

Again the whip cracked.
Tears were streamed down Abraham's face now to match the blood on his back.
Rose wanted to cry as well, but she could not, not while Wilson and others were
watching, so she buried her emotions deep inside.

Her face a blank canvas, she
brought the whip down across Abraham's back for a fourth time.

'Again,' he hissed weakly.
'Please.'

The whip cracked once final
time and Abraham fell face down on the floor.

Ignoring him, Rose dropped
the whip to the floor and ran for the fresh air above deck. She found Fairfield
running the other way.

'I heard there was trouble,'
he said. 'What happened?'

'I want to go to my cabin.'

Fairfield continued to try
to prise information from her as he led her to her room, but Rose did not trust
herself to speak. When they reached her cabin, away from prying eyes, Rose
curled up on her bed and finally allowed herself to cry.

* * *

Mandeville studied the Doctor across the top of his
cards. The Doctor grinned back. They were the only two players left in the
game, the others having decided it was too rich for them long ago.

'Well,
Doctor,' Mandeville asked, 'do you want to fold.'

'Tempting,'
the Doctor replied. His cards lay face down on the table in front of him. He
had not even bothered to look at his hand. 'But I think I'll raise you.'

Mandeville's
face flushed red, then beetroot purple. His whole body was vibrating. Coffin
tensed in his chair, ready for the explosion. But the explosion never came.
Instead, Mandeville released the pent up energy as a great belly laugh and rocked
back on the rear legs of his chair.

'You
are a truly remarkable man, Doctor. Take her with my compliments. You've earned
her.'

'Thank
you. Now, if you'll excuse me.' The Doctor stood up and took Mary by the hand.

The
doors to the tavern were flung open and the bespectacled man from the auction
burst in, a piece of paper in his hand.

'Stop
him,' he yelled, pointing at the Doctor. He unfurled the piece of paper - a
wanted poster. 'He's wanted for helping slaves to escape.'

'Is
that right,' Mandeville demanded, climbing to his feet.

'Would
you believe this is all one big misunderstanding?' the Doctor asked.

More
patrons were standing now.

'No?
Well, it's been a pleasure.' He grabbed Coffin and dragged both him and Mary
towards the door. 'Run!'

* * *

'I'm sorry for... for doing what I did,' Rose said
inadequately.

The
time had come to leave the steamer and she had descended into the hold to fetch
Abraham.

'It
had to be done,' Abraham replied, still bent almost double by his injuries.
'Better it was you than one of them.'

'Rose.
I'm surprised to see you down here again.' Wilson was standing behind her. He
was so close that Rose could feel the heat of his breath on her neck.

'What
do you want?' she asked.

'I
want to know what your game is,' Wilson said. 'I've had my eye on you and your slave
since you came onboard.'

'Yeah,
free,' the Doctor said. 'He's on his way to Canada right now and he sent me to
bring you to him.'

'We're
going to be free?' Mary asked again.

'Not
if they catch up with us you won't,' Coffin interjected.

The
Doctor leaned out of the coach to watch their pursuers. 'Can't we outrun them?'

Coffin
shook his head. 'They don't have the weight of a coach to contend with.'

The
Doctor sank back in his seat. 'There must be something we can do.'

'Doctor,
you're best hope is to jump out when we go round this next bend,' Coffin
suggested. 'If your lucky they won't see you and I can lead them away.'

'And
what will they do to you if they catch up with you?' the Doctor asked.

'I'll
cross that bridge when I come to it,' Coffin replied. 'The important thing is
to get Mary to safety. Promise me you'll do that, Doctor.'

'I
promise,' the Doctor said. 'You're a brave man, Levi.'

'I'm
just trying to do the right thing. Bravery doesn't enter into it. Now get ready
to jump.'

The
bend was rapidly approaching.

'Brace
yourself,' the Doctor warned Mary. 'Wait for it... and jump!'

Together,
Mary and the Doctor launched themselves from the fast-moving carriage. They hit
the ground hard and rolled down a steep incline into a ditch.

'Keep
you head down,' the Doctor ordered Mary as she started to rise.

Horses
hooves thundered on the road above them and the Doctor pressed himself flat
against the earth, waiting. Finally the sounds died away. Brushing the dirt
from his clothes, the Doctor stood up and then helped Mary to her feet.

'What
do we do now?' Mary asked.

The
Doctor looked off in the direction in which Coffin had disappeared.

'Now,'
he replied, 'I keep a promise.'

* * *

'We need to find transport to Lake Erie,' Fairfield
said as he, Rose and Abraham threaded their way through the crowds on the
docks. 'Once we cross the lake we're in Canada and we're safe.'

'We
can't get there soon enough if you ask me,' Rose began, then trailed off.

'What
is it?'

Fairfield realised Rose was
no longer following him and stopped. Forcing his way back through the people,
he found her and Abraham staring at a sheet of paper nailed to the side of a
building.

'That's us, isn't it?' Rose
said when she noticed the Fairfield had joined them. 'Those descriptions,
they're us.'

'Not as badly as I want that
money.' Rose flinched as Wilson jabbed his Colt revolver into the small of her
back. 'I knew there was something up about you three.'

'Must be nice to be right.'
Fairfield balled his hands into fists.

'Now, now, Mister...' Wilson
peered over Rose's shoulder at the wanted poster. '...Fairfield, don't try
anything heroic or Rose here will suffer the consequences. Now, let's go and
find a judge so that I can claim my reward.'

Taking hold of Rose's
shoulder with his free hand, Wilson guided her out onto the street.

'Easy does it,' he said.

At the edge of the river, a
fishing boat had just docked. Its crew tried to heft a net full of fish onto
dry land, but the net burst and the fish skidded out into the street. In the
confusion, Wilson let go of Rose.

This was the opportunity
Fairfield had been waiting for. He grabbed Rose's hand and dragged her away.
Abraham followed as best he could. Wilson levelled his revolver, but the crowd
was too densely packed for him to get a clear shot. Cursing, he dived after
them.

'This way,' Fairfield said,
hauling Rose down as side street.

'Where are we going?' she
asked.

'I've no idea, but 'away'
will do for a start.'

'Those posters are
everywhere,' Rose said, pointing to the walls. 'Everyone will be looking for
us.'

'Then we'll just have to
keep running.'

'Come back with my money,'
Wilson demanded. He aimed his gun and pulled the trigger. A shot ricocheted off
the wall by Rose's ear.

'Fine, if that's the game
you want to play.' Fairfield drew his own revolver and returned fire. One of
his shots connected and Wilson staggered against the side of a building,
clutching his arm. 'That should slow him down.'

'John,' a voice called out.
'In here.'

Fairfield looked to Rose.

'What have we got to lose,'
she said and they dived inside the open warehouse door.

The door was thrown shut as
Wilson approached it, the sleeve of his shirt stained with blood. He pounded on
the door with his fists.

'Open up in the name of the
law,' he yelled.

The door opened a crack to
reveal a black man in a clean suit.

'Who the devil are you,'
Wilson demanded.

'My name,' the black man replied,
'is William Still. And who might you be?'

'John Wilson. And I don't
take kindly to niggers who don't know their place.'

'Is that so, Mr Wilson,'
Still replied. 'Are you an officer of the law?'

'That hardly answers my
question,' Still pointed out. 'Are you an officer of the law?'

'No,' Wilson conceded, 'I
guess you could say I'm more by way of a concerned citizen.'

'In that case, Mr Wilson,
perhaps you would be kind enough to return with a judge. Until then...'

And Still slammed and locked
the warehouse door.

* * *

'It's beautiful.' Mary was admiring the new dress
that the Doctor had bought for her.

'You're
beautiful,' the Doctor replied. 'Probably. More importantly, you'll need to
look the part if we're travelling first class. You'll need to wear the veil,
though. I'm sorry.'

'I
understand,' Mary said.

'On
the plus side, with the amount I paid for these tickets, we should be
guaranteed some privacy.' The Doctor helped Mary onto the train. 'Next stop,
freedom.'

'Will
it ever end?' Mary asked as they made their way to their compartment.

'Slavery?
Yes. If you're lucky, you'll live to see it.'

'You
mean my children will be free?'

The
Doctor nodded. He opened the door of their compartment and allowed Mary to
enter first.

'And
will they ever stop hating us?'

The
Doctor sat down and peered out of the window.

'One
day you people will realise that you're all descended from apes and one day
you'll wake up to the fact that no one ape is better than any other ape just
because of the way she looks or talks or what colour skin she's got. One day
you'll realise that you're all the same and then, yes, the hate will stop. But
I'd be lying if I told you that that day wouldn't be a long time in coming. A
very, very long time.'

* * *

'That won't hold him for long,' William Still said.
'He's right. The law is on his side.'

'William,
what are you doing here?' Fairfield asked.

'Working,'
he replied. 'If you'd bothered to send word then I might be in a better
position to help you.'

'William's
a member of the Underground Railroad,' Fairfield explained to Rose and Abraham.

'Is
that why you're here?' Rose asked. 'Working for the Railroad?'

'No,
I'm not,' Still replied. 'I help as much as I can, but I still have my own
business to run.'

'Your
own business?' Abraham asked. He was staring at Still, amazed by his fine
clothes and speech.

'You
thought that all black men were slaves in this country?' Still asked. 'Take
heart, my friend. There is a bright future for you if you're prepared to work
hard and grasp hold of your opportunities with both hands. When I arrived in
Philadelphia I was illiterate and had just five dollars in my pocket, but I
taught myself to read and to write and I proved my worth to employers and now
here I am. You can do the same, if you're willing to try.'

'I
am, sir, I am,' Abraham insisted.

'Good
man,' Still replied. 'Now to see to your escape. I have a wagon out back.'

Still
led the way outside.

'The
wagon has a false bottom,' he explained. 'It's cramped, but you should be able
to hide in there. John, you will have to drive, but I have a cape that may help
to disguise you. Even if you are spotted, they will be looking for free
fugitives, not one man travelling alone.'

'You're
a good friend, William,' Fairfield said. 'The Railroad's lucky to have you.'

'No,
John, the Railroad's lucky to have you,' Still replied. 'I am helping my
people. You have no such loyalty to guide you actions and yet you help us anyway.
Now, ride like the wind.'

* * *

Sheriff Hicks nearly fell off of his chair when the
Doctor and Mary walked into his office.

'Remember
me,' the Doctor asked.

Hick's
lunged for his gun and, holding it in shaking hands, pointed it at the Doctor.
The Doctor raised his hands.

'You're
a slave-stealer,' Hicks told him.

'That's
true,' the Doctor agreed.

'Who's
she?'

'Mary?
Oh, she's another slave I've stolen.'

'Well
I'm placing both of you under arrest,' Hicks declared.

'Good
man,' the Doctor said. He leaned forward conspiratorially. 'Just between you
and me, I can help you find lots more slaves I've stolen.'

'Oh
really? Where?'

'Do
you remember that blue box I had with me?' the Doctor asked. 'You've still got
it?'

'Yes.'

'They're
in there.'

'What,
all of them?'

'All
of them.'

'That's
impossible.'

The
Doctor grinned innocently. 'I'll show you if you like.'

Hicks
considered.

'All
right,' he said at last, 'but no tricks.'

'As
if,' the Doctor replied.

Still
waving the gun, Hicks showed the Doctor and Mary to the storeroom at the back
where the TARDIS was waiting.

'I
don't see as you have much choice,' Fairfield replied and he shot Wilson's
horse.

Panicked
and injured, the horse reared up, throwing its rider, then galloped off,
startling the other horses. Capitalising on the chaos, Fairfield ran to the
edge of the lake and threw himself into the air, landing gracelessly on the
nearest ice floe.

'Keep
going,' he called to Abraham and Rose as the jumped from ice floe to ice floe.
'Don't look back.'

Rose
slipped on the ice and used her hands to steady herself. The cold was biting
and it felt as if a layer of skin had been ripped away when she lifted her
hands.

'Hurry,'
Abraham called from the next ice floe.

Gritting
her teeth, Rose staggered slowly to her feet.

'I'm
coming,' she called out through chattering teeth.

'No,
you're not.'

Wilson landed nimbly on the
same ice floe and grabbed Rose by the hair.

'Listen to me,' he yelled to
Fairfield and Abraham. 'If you want this girl to live, you'll both head back
the way you came.'

'Any if we don't?' Fairfield
had his revolver in his hand, but Rose was blocking his shot.

'Bang,' Wilson replied
simply.

'I am through being a
hostage,' Rose snapped.

She jabbed an elbow into
Wilson's stomach and he staggered backwards. He tried to halt his movement, but
the surface of the ice was to slick and he plunged off of the ice floe into the
lake. On her hands and knees, Rose crawled towards the edge.

'Rose, leave him,' Fairfield
shouted. 'He's not worth it.'

Ignoring him, Rose reached
out to Wilson. 'Take my hand.'

'Whatever you say.' Wilson
grabbed Rose by the wrist and pulled her into the water with him. The cold
immediately started sucking the strength from her muscles and she began to
sink.

Wilson meanwhile was
climbing back onto the ice floe.

'Wilson!' Fairfield called
to him. 'Remember what I said about the bullet.'

He pulled the trigger.
Wilson rolled to one side and the bullet sped past him, ploughing a deep furrow
in the ice.

'You missed,' he taunted
Fairfield.

Tiny cracks started to form
around the bullet's furrow and bigger cracks spread out from those. Then,
suddenly, the ice floe collapsed inwards, plunging Wilson beneath the water's
surface.

'Depends on your point of
view,' Fairfield muttered to himself.

'Rose,' Abraham was yelling.
'Rose, can you hear me?'

Rose's hand was still above
the surface and then, for a brief moment, her head emerged.

'Rose!'

Abraham's ice floe was
drifting away from her. He jumped to a new one, but he could not see a path
that would get him any closer. There was only one option: he dived into the
lake. A few quick strokes brought him alongside Rose and he wrapped his arms
around her, lifting her head above water.